


strike a match and send this dump ablaze

by queencrank



Series: jalph musical aus [1]
Category: Lord of the Flies - William Golding
Genre: A lot of unsavoury shit goes down so read the first note for warnings, Alternate Universe - Heathers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-09
Updated: 2017-04-21
Packaged: 2018-10-14 22:01:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10545052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queencrank/pseuds/queencrank
Summary: September 1st, 1989Dear diary.





	1. ACT ONE.

**Author's Note:**

> my heathers au bc my fave musical nd my fave book
> 
> i tried to give the characters a healthy mix of their original personality and the personality of the character they're replacing.  
> i mostly referenced the musical because of the character development, but i did reference the movie a bit too and made some changes to fit my liking.
> 
> due to the nature of the source materials, this fic contains some shit that u might not wanna fuck wit. this includes : murder, attempted date rape, suicide attempts, violence, and unhealthy relationships, among other things.

> **_September 1st, 1989_**
> 
> _Dear diary,_
> 
> _I'm writing this on the bus, so when I look back on this, I probably won't even be able to read it._

> _Not that I would anyways. My handwriting's shit._

> _Anyways._  
>  _Today's the first day of senior year. Thank fuck._

Ralph gasps as a football whizzes past his face, narrowly missing his ear. He purses his lips, returning his attention to the journal open in his lap. 

> _These kids used to be so sweet. What the hell happened?_

Just as Ralph writes this, the bus pulls up in front of Westerberg High school. He sighs, stuffing his journal into his bag and sliding out of the seat, covered by cheap upholstery that was split and stained in several places. He pushes his way off the bus, and jumps down onto the pavement. Behind him, there's the sound of a quick scuffle as someone cries out in pain. Ralph turns to see a kid he didn't now, on his hands and knees in front of the bus steps as students step around him. Sam hikes his varsity jacket up and laughs with his brother as Ralph rushes to help the kid up.

'Hey! Are you okay?'

'Fuck off, nerd!' The kid shoves him away and sorely brushes himself off before stalking towards the building, leaving Ralph alone, face burning.

 

During first period, instead of listening to his English teacher, Ralph takes out his journal and angrily continues his entry. 

> _The only reason I haven't burnt this place down to the ground is because I would have to send my SAT scores to San Quentin instead of Stanford._

At lunch, Ralph isn't paying as much attention as he should be. This wasn't high school - this was the goddamned Thunderdome - a war zone. You should always be on guard.  
He's just thankful that he doesn't have anything on his tray except his journal when it's flying out of his hands and clattering to the linoleum at his feet. Sam stands in front of him, without his brother by his side for once. _Third year as linebacker, eighth year of being a huge dick._

'What the fuck did you just say to me?' Ralph pales when he realizes he's said it aloud, and looks away as he stoops to pick up his tray.

'Nothing.' When Ralph stands, Sam has wandered away, probably to torment someone else. Ralph is entirely glad that the attention span of a jock is lesser than that of a rock.

He's more prepared when someone taps his shoulder, and he flinches, spinning around quickly, holding his tray over his chest. As if cheap plastic could protect you from the words thrown over other kids' shoulders as carelessly as a piece of scrunched up paper. He relaxes quickly when he processes the ruddy cheeks and round spectacles of his best friend, and smiles.

'Hey, Charlie.'

'Hey,' The shorter boy pushes his spectacles up his nose, holding his filled tray with the other hand, 'We still on for movie night?'

'Of course! I got the Jiffy Pop last time. Did you rent anything yet?'

'I still have _The Princess Bride_ from last week.'

'Shit, Char. Haven't you got that memorized by now?' Charlie's pink cheeks deepen to a dark red.

'I guess I'm a sucker for happy endings.' Out of the corner of his eye, Ralph spots Eric, Sam trailing close behind, stalking up to Charlie. Ralph opens his mouth to warn his friend, but the blond is already upending his tray, sending his food splattering onto his sweater. Ralph curses, grabs the napkin dispenser from the counter and thrusts it into Charlie's hands as he stalks after the jocks, fingers tight around his tray.

'Hey! Pick that the fuck up! Right now!' The conversations in the cafeteria slowly peter out, and it's dead silent as the brothers turn to him.

'Are you actually talking to me right now?' Eric steps closer, and Ralph lifts his chin when his twin steps up to back his up.

'My brother just asked you a question.' He all but growls, and Ralph clenches his jaw.

'Yes, actually, I am talking to you. I wanna know what gives you the right to pick on my friend. You're nothing but a high school has-been just waiting to happen. In five years, we'll be making a name for ourselves while you're working down at 7Eleven.' Ralph has barely finished his tangent when Eric steps close, their noses brushing. He squints at his forehead, then plants his index finger right in the middle.

'You have a zit right there.' He plants his hand on Ralph's face next, shoving him back. Ralph barely catches himself, but everyone's eyes are off him when the cafeteria doors swing open, and he scrambles back in front of Charlie as three boys in color-coordinated outfits saunter in. Sam and Eric saunter over, smiling at the boy in red.

'Hey, Maurice.' The brunet rolls his eyes, picking at his nails.

'What?' He all but snaps, then pushes past the jocks, letting them trail after him and the other two adoringly. Ralph turns to Charlie, rolling his eyes.

'Ugh. They're all fake bitches, but Chandler? He's the worst.'

'I do wish that they were nicer.' The stout boy replies, turning back to Ralph and smiling brightly.

 

After the lunch bell rings, Ralph slips into the bathroom, clutching his hall pass in his hand, tight. The sound of retching fills the room as he steps around the half wall, confronted with Maurice and Simon, washing their hands.

'Grow up, Roger. Bulimia is _so_ '87.' Maurice snaps at his reflection as soon as there's a reprieve in the retching. Simon ventures over the closed stall, leaning on the frame.

'Maybe you should see a doctor.' Retching fills the room ago, then the toilet flushes. Ralph steps up to the mirror, ducking his head as the sound of heels clatter into the bathroom, and the shrill voice of Ms. Fleming bounces off the walls.

'Skipping class again, boys? The bell rung fifteen minutes ago.' Out of the corner of Ralph's eye, he can see Maurice stalk towards the guidance counselor.

'Roger isn't feeling well. We're making sure he doesn't, like, hurl all over his new outfit.'

'Do you have a hall pass?' Simon steps up behind the taller boy.

'No. Sorry.'

'Week's detention, all of you.' Ralph hurriedly pulls a pencil from his bag and scrawls the three names under his on his hall pass, nervously clearing his throat.

'Actually, Ms. Fleming, we're all out on this hall pass. For Yearbook.' He holds out the slip of paper for the woman to inspect.

'Huh. I see all of you are down. Alright. Hurry up, get to class.' Ralph thanks her as she walks briskly from the room. Maurice steps forward and snatches the slip of paper from his hand as the stall door bangs open, and Roger wipes his mouth with his hand.

'This forgery is pretty impressive,' He crumples it up, stuffs it into his blazer, 'Who the fuck are you?'

'Um,' He wipes his hand on his sweater, holding it out, 'Ralph. Gornick. Could you do me a favor?' Maurice glances at the other two, considering it.

'Depends. What did you have in mind?'

'Let me sit at your table? Just once. You can pretend I don't even exist. If people think that you tolerate me than they'd leave me alone. Please - ' Maurice laughs shrilly, the other two nervously joining in, 'Before you answer, I can also do permission slips, absence notes... You name it.'

'Prescriptions?'

'Shut up, Roger,' Maurice steps forward, leaning in, 'You know... If you moisturized once in a while, you wouldn't look half bad...' Simon steps forward hesitantly, taking his face in one hand.

'And you have a very symmetrical face - if I sliced your skull down the middle, I'd have matching halves. Very important.'

'I mean, your physique... Could use some work.' Roger quips over Maurice's shoulder.

'If we do this for you... You're our bitch, clear?' Ralph pales. _Couldn't be so bad, right?_

'Crystal.'

 

* * *

 

The following day, Maurice arrives at his house, bright and early, toting a bag of mysterious products. He looks around the hall, sneering.

'Is your family on welfare or something? This is basically a shelter for hobos.' Ralph sighs, leading Maurice into his bedroom.

 

All it took was half and hour, and Ralph felt like an entirely new person.

At school, people whispered when he walked down the hall, arm in arm with Maurice, the other two boys walking in front of them, and it felt like he was on Cloud Nine. He was especially excited to see what happened at lunch - maybe he would finally get to eat without glancing over his shoulder every two seconds.

 

He finds his answer a mere hour later, when he follows his new 'friends' into the cafeteria, fashionably late. More whispers follow him as students try to figure out who he was. Maurice pulls him close, fingers bruisingly tight around his bicep.

'If you act weird, I will crucify you.' He hisses through white teeth and a perfect smile. Charlie turns, face lighting up.

'Ralph? Ralph!' He waves excitedly, but Ralph forces himself to look away when the brunet's fingers tighten around his bicep even more. People whisper his name around him, and he swallows, face burning while the four of them step up to the front of the line, and Maurice's hand drops.

 

 

Two weeks pass, and Ralph quickly adjusts to life in the spotlight. It wasn't bad, especially considering what life was like before.

He's late for lunch, even by Maurice's standards. He walks down the halls briskly, dress shoes tapping smartly on the linoleum.

'Ralph!' The familiar cry stops him in his tracks, and he turns, smiles at Charlie.

'Hey!'

'How've you been? I haven't seen you in a while.'

'Oh, yeah. Sorry about that. I've been fine, I guess.'

'It's okay. You're with Maurice now - that's so exciting!'

'Yeah, it's whatever.'

'You're really looking great these days.' Before Ralph can reply, a sharp voice sounds behind him.

'Ralph. Maurice says to haul ass to the cafeteria, pronto.' Ralph turns to look at Roger, forcing a smile on his face.

'How very,' He turns back to Charlie, smile turning genuine, 'I'll see you later, alright?'

 

'I need you to forge a note in Sam Sweeney's handwriting.' Maurice holds out a pen and a piece of lined paper, obviously torn from a notebook.

'Why?'

'Don't ask questions, Gornick,' Maurice all but snarls, thrusting the items into his hands, 'Ralph'll need something to write on. Bend over, Roger.' Ralph smooths the paper out on Roger's waiting back, looking to Maurice.

'Let's go with, 'Dear Beautiful. I've been watching you, and thinking about us in the old days. I was hoping you could come to my homecoming party this weekend. Miss you. Sam.' Oh! Put an _xo_ at the end of the signature.' Ralph finishes the note.

'Who's this for?' The paper is whisked away as soon as he lifts the pen.

'I told you not to ask questions,' Maurice smiles then, sickly sweet, 'I just found out that Sam and Piggy used to hang out.'

'Yeah. In kindergarten.'

'Rumor has it they kissed on the kickball field. That's disgusting!' Simon giggles, nose wrinkled. Maurice scans over the note, sucking at his teeth.

'Perfect,' He turns, 'Sam!' The shorter brother saunters across the cafeteria, and Maurice rests his hand on his chest, folded paper held between his index and middle finger like a cigarette.

'Yeah?'

'Could you be a dear and give this to Piggy for me?'

'Since when do you talk to that lardo?' Sam walks away, starting to unfold the note. Maurice's voice goes shrill.

'Don't read it! He's got this weird rash on his bits and wanted advice from my doctor.' Sam makes a disgusted face and holds the partially unfolded note away from himself. Ralph rushes forward to intercept, holding the note to his chest.

'Please don't do this. Not to Charlie. He's had this crush for a decade now. It'll kill him.' Maurice scoffs, and Roger steps forward.

' _Please_. It'll give him something to beat off to -'

'Shut _up_ , Roger. Come _on_ , Ralph. Give me the fucking note.'

'Maurice - please.'

'Need I remind you why you're here? You're my bitch, Gornick. Give me the fucking note, or else.' With one hand, Maurice grabs a handful of hair, wrenching him close, snatching the note away from him with the other hand. He hands it to Roger, who sneaks over to Charlie, who has wandered into the cafeteria, and sneakily deposits it on his tray. As soon as Charlie unfolds it, Maurice releases Ralph, giving him a venomous smile, returning to their table as Charlie approaches Ralph, face bright.

'Ralph, look! Sam's invited me to his homecoming party. I knew there was something there.' Ralph can feel the eyes on the back of his head, and he sighs, forces a smile that doesn't reach his eyes.

'I'm stoked, Char.'

'Oh, I'm so excited!' Charlie does an odd little dance, and Ralph feels his ears heat up when he hears stifled snickers behind him.

'Look, Char, I gotta go. Tell me about it over the phone tonight, okay?' Charlie nods excitedly, and Ralph sighs, turning back to the table, shoulders slack.

 

When the lunch bell rings, Ralph is the last of his table to leave the cafeteria, and one of the last kids in general. He sighs again, heading towards the doors when a kid who sits near the doors speaks up.

'You shouldn't have bowed down to the Swatch dogs and Diet Coke heads. They'll crush that kid.'

'Excuse me?' Ralph stops, stares down at the redhead, who shuts his book and stands.

'I saw what happened. It's clear that you have a heart. You just need to work harder on keeping it clean. 'We're all born marked for evil.'' Ralph feels something plunge into his stomach when the redhead smiles, then pushes out of the cafeteria. He quickly follows, grabbing the hem of his trench coat.

'Okay, um, don't just throw some Baudelaire quote at me then walk away,' He steps in front of the taller boy, stopping him by holding his hand up, 'I didn't catch your name.'

'I didn't throw it.' He replies, grinning down at him before stepping around him and continuing down the hall. Sam and Eric step out of the cafeteria, and Ralph pointedly ignores them as he trails after the redhead, curiosity peaked. They mumble among themselves, then Eric pushes past Ralph, grabbing the collar of the redhead's coat.

'Hey, sweetheart! What'd your boyfriend say when you told him you were moving to Sherwood, Ohio?' He pulls the redhead down close, snarling in his face. Sam sighs, walks up behind him.

'Hey, Sam, doesn't this school have a _no fags allowed_ rule?' The redhead sighs, unfazed by the two jocks.

'They seem to have an open door policy for assholes though.' He yanks himself free, leaving the two momentarily stunned. Then Sam quickly recovers, straightening up.

'What did you say, asshole?' The redhead stops, heaves a sigh, and digs in his pocket.

'I said...' Ralph feels his heart stop when the redhead pulls out a gun, firing at the two jocks.

 

* * *

 

'They won't expel him. They'll just suspend him for a few days or something.' It's Simon's shot, but he's leaning on his mallet, looking around at the other two.

'He used a real gun. They should lock his ass up.'

'No way. He used blanks. All he really did was ruin two pairs of underwear.' Ralph speaks up, leaning on the tree in his backyard. Maurice shoots him an angry look, then smiles at him.

'Speaking of ruined underwear... You were practically throwing yours at him. And judging by your house, you can't afford replacement underwear.' The others chortle, and Ralph rolls his eyes.

'I don't even know his name.' Maurice scoffs, takes his shot. When it rolls towards the back step, Ralph has a feeling he did it on purpose.

'Oh, Mr. and Mrs. Gornick!' He calls, walking over. Ralph's stepmother picks up the croquet ball in one hand, picking up her platter of snacks in the other.

'Oh! There you are. Care for some pate?' Maurice snarls down at the plate as Ralph jogs over, fixing his blazer.

'That is not pate. It's liverwurst.'

'I know, Maurice. Family joke.' Maurice lets a short, forced laugh, and Ralph's stepmother continues.

'Any plans for tonight, boys?'

'Yeah. The twins are having this big homecoming party tonight, so I'm gonna catch a ride with Maurice.'

'Speaking of which,' Maurice places his ball in the middle of the platter, smiling at the blonde falsely as he and the other two step through the open backdoor.

'Uh, sorry. I gotta motor if we're gonna get to this party in time.' His stepmother smiles, places her hand on his arm.

'Have fun, honey.'

'Thanks.'

 

 

Ralph sighs, pushing into the 7Eleven that Maurice has pulled up at. As he opens the door, the brunet slams on the horn and leans out the window.

'Don't forget the Corn Nuts! It's not a fucking party without Corn Nuts!'

'BQ or plain?'

'BQ!' Maurice snaps, then the window is rolling up. Ralph sighs, lets the door swing shut behind him as he browses the snack aisle. The bell above the door tinkles when he finds what he's looking for, and a familiar voice speaks above him.

'Greetings and salutations.' Ralph jumps, straightening up to look at the new kid.

'Oh, hey!'

'Can I interest you in a slurpee with that?' He's already wandering back towards the machines.

'Nah,' Ralph bites his nail as he follows him, 'But if you play your cards right, I'll let you buy me a Big Gulp.' The redhead scoffs, grabbing a cup.

'Are you kidding? That's like going to McDonald's and ordering a salad. Did you say cherry or lime?'

'I said Big Gulp,' Ralph leans on the shelf, biting his lip, 'I'm Ralph, by the way. You ever gonna tell me yours, or will I have to start guessing.'

'Jack.'

'So. Jack. That thing you pulled right before third period - pretty severe.'

'Well. I find that the extreme always makes an impression.'

'What's a Baudelaire quoting badass like you doing in Sherwood, Ohio?'

'My dad. He owns a... deconstruction company.' Jack pours some cherry slushie into the cup, holding it out.

'De-construction?'

'He likes tearing things down.'

'Oh,' Ralph takes the cup and takes sip, smiling up at Jack, 'Do I know the company?'

'Have you seen the commercial? 'My name's Big Bud Dean! If it's in the way, I'll make your day!' Jack makes a rude gesture, and Ralph's face lights up.

'Oh! He pushes a plunger and the screen blows up?' He laughs, then coughs, realizing his mistake, 'That's your dad?'

'In all his toxic glory.' 

'Yeah, well, everyone's lives has static -' Maurice honks the horn again, and it can be heard through the glass walls, ' - For example, I don't really like my friends.'

'I don't really like your friends either. Bag your plans. Hang out here.'

'Swanky first date.'

'Are you kidding? I love this place.'

'No offense, but why?' Jack smiles softly, eyes far-off.

'I've been moved around all my life. Dallas, Baton Rouge, Vegas... Ohio. There's always been a 7Eleven. Keeps me sane. C'mon, I'll pay for your Corn Nuts.' Ralph follows the taller boy to the cash register.  
Just as the tired-looking cashier hands Jack his change, the door bangs open, and Maurice looks pissed.

'Ugh. I gotta go.'

'So I see.' Jack hands Ralph his slushie, and Maurice sneers at him over the blond's head.

'Corn nuts?'

'Uh, yeah. They're right here.' Maurice all but snatches the bag from his hand.

'Say goodbye to Red Dawn here, and let's _motor_.' Ralph smiles over his shoulder at Jack, face burning, as Maurice pulls him out of the 7Eleven.

 

* * *

 

The party is already in full swing when they pull up, and Maurice snarls.

'Leave that shit in the car.' He snaps, gesturing to the half-emptied cup in Ralph's hand. Ralph sighs, following the shorter boy into the house, where music is pounding at his eardrums.

 

'Okay - so it's salt... then lime... then shot?' Ralph throws his shot back, staggering in place. Simon steadies him, holding another shot up.

'No, it's salt, then-'

'You're doing it wrong!' Maurice yells over the music, snatching the shot from Simon's hand and throwing it back.

'Really? 'cause I feel great!' Someone smacks his ass, and he would turn and chew them out. If he wasn't drunk as hell. Instead, he just grins and picks up another drink, throwing it back before wandering away, distracted when he catches sight of someone lighting a blunt.

 

At one point, someone lifts a piñata shaped like a pig, and Eric's voice lifts above the music

'Hey, everybody! What's Westerberg gonna do to the Razorbacks at Sunday's game?' Sam grabs the piñata from his brother and thrusts into it, earning a chorus of drunken laughter. Roger scoffs.

'You're fuckin' seventeen, asshole, act your age!' In response, Sam repeats the action against Roger's side, and Ralph staggers over.

'Shit, Sam, there's an emergency. I just saw some freshmen sneak in back there,' He points to the backyard, 'Should we do anything?' Sam snarls, stalks down the hall.

'I fuckin' hate freshmen. Where are you, little shits? I'm gonna -' Ralph turns to Roger, who smooths his hair and straightens his clothes.

'You good?' Roger frowns at him, gives him the finger.

'I didn't need your help.' Ralph smiles, leans in.

'Aw, thanks, but I don't really have to vomit right now.' He laughs loudly, then wanders off again. 

 

Ralph's back is to the door when the conversations and laughter falter for a second, then Maurice laughs loudly.

'Hey look - it's Piggy, in the flesh.' He stage-whispers, and Ralph turns, face bright.

'Charlie!' He cries, pulling his friend in for a tight hug, ignoring the scandalized faces and whispers, 'I can't believe you actually came.'

'It's exciting, isn't it? Oh - is this okay?' He lifts a bottle of sparkling cider, and Ralph grins, remembering his thirteenth birthday, when they drank so much of that shit that they vomited.

'Sure!' Charlie gasps, looking over his shoulder.

'I'm gonna say hi to Sam! Wish me luck!' When Ralph turns to watch Charlie go, he catches sight of Roger, lifting the pig, saying something that makes Maurice laugh, then drag it off into another room. Ralph frowns, but decides not to follow him. The feeling in his gut could just be the alcohol.

 

They've all moved outside, some kids half-naked in the pool, others sprawled in the hot tub. Maurice saunters out, malicious smile on his face.

'Alright, Westerburgers! It's time to celebrate our surefire victory over the Razorbacks. And, like always, we're gonna fuckin' destroy their mascot!' Cheers lift through the crowd as someone turns off the music inside, and Simon walks out with a bat and a blindfold, grin splitting his face.

'We need a volunteer to take the first swing at the piñata!' He drags the word piñata out, giggling to Maurice.

'Charles. I think you should do the honors.' Charlie looks up sharply, ruddy cheeks darkening.

'I... I don't know this game.' Simon gasps, jogging over to him.

'Let's show this kid some Westerberg spirit!' He looks around himself as he shoves the bat into Charlie's hand, making a vague motion with his hand, 'Charlie, Charlie, Charlie,' The rest of the kids take up the chant, stamping their feet. Charlie smiles, lets Simon cover his eyes with the blindfold. Ralph swallows the bile rising in his throat when Roger walks out, the pig propped under his arm. Round spectacles are shoved onto its snout, and Ralph's jaw drops in horror, and he rushes forward without thinking.

'What the fuck, Roger! Give it to me!' After a brief struggle, he rips it from the darker boy, hot tears pricking his eyes. Maurice and Simon step forward and try and take it back, but Ralph stays firm, stumbling back towards the pool. He frowns, gripping the pig tight.

'What is your damage? If you want it, you can swim for it.' He throws it into the pool, and the half-naked kids scramble out. Charlie pushes the blindfold down, frowning.

'What's going on?' Ralph swallows, rushes to him.

'Just go home. Please. I'll explain later. Please.' Charlie looks from her to Maurice to the pig, now floating in the pool, then runs off. Ralph turns to face the three boys, lifting his hands in resignation.

'Alright. We gave it a shot. But consider this my official resignation from the Lipgloss Gestapo. I'm going back to civilian life.' He starts to walk away, but Maurice grabs his shoulder, spinning him around. He stumbles, covering his mouth. 'Don't spin me. I'm not feeling well.'

'No,' Maurice hisses, grabbing his hair to pull him down, 'You don't get to be a fuckin' nobody. Come next week, you'll be an ex-somebody. Not even the losers will touch you now.' The smell of his breath, mixed alcohol and other things that Ralph doesn't want to know the source of is all Ralph can focus on. 'Transfer schools if you want. You can move to Jefferson. You can go to Washington. No one at Westerberg is gonna let you play their reindeer games!' He shoves Ralph back, who falls onto his rear, gasping. He stumbles to his feet, world spinning. Suddenly, everything comes to the surface, and he vomits all over Maurice's front, who screams in fury, stumbling away.

'What the fuck! I raise you up from _nothing_! And this is my thanks? I get paid in _puke_!' Vomit isn't the only thing that comes up. Ralph clenches his fist, ignoring the burning in his throat and the foul taste in his mouth as he leans in.

'Lick it up, baby! Lick. It. Up.' Maurice straightens up, taking in a long breath through his nose as he closes his eyes, collects himself. He opens his eyes again and, ignoring the sick down his blazer, smiles coldly at him.

'I know who I'm eating lunch with on Monday. Do _you_?' No one will look Ralph in the eye. On the way out, he grabs the half-emptied bottle of sparkling cider to wash the taste of sick from his mouth. He storms through the house as Maurice's voice carries behind him.

'Okay, party people. Where's the fucking keg?' Ralph casts one last glance over his shoulder. Through the doorway, he can see that Maurice has taken off his blazer, walking around in his slacks and tight button up. Ralph scoffs, takes a long swig of the cider, and loudly tromps down the front steps, walking down the road briskly.

 

* * *

 

 

He loses track of how long he walks. Slowly, the big houses turn into houses close to the size of his, if not slightly smaller. All the windows are dark, but Ralph doesn't mind the silence. Not when his head is pounding and his stomach is turning. He knew that, come Monday, he was dead. It would be even worse than it had been his entire school career. Before now, Maurice had ignored him. What would life be like when Maurice hated him?

Ralph is too busy plotting his escape from his shitty life to notice he's gone onto someone's lawn until he's standing in a square of light. Thoughts of the nearest motorcycle rental place are erased as he looks up into the window, shielding his eyes. It's almost pathetic how quickly he recognizes shadow of the person that walks back and forth across the window, pulling his coat off, brushing his teeth.

Ralph bites his lip and smiles slyly, thinking back to that afternoon in the hall. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to have some protection.  
Also, it wouldn't hurt to keep Jack around. His smile was nice and his eyes were kind.

He leans against the tree that's been conveniently grown outside his window, waiting for the light to flick off before he starts to climb, clumsily.  
Even sober, climbing trees wasn't something that Ralph went out of his way to do. He was absolutely horrible at the rope in gym class, and, even as a kid, he preferred to stay in and read, opposed to hanging off tree branches and playing on monkey bars. Somehow, he manages to climb onto the limb that lead up to Jack's window without killing himself. He inches along the branch nervously, glancing at the dark grass. Maybe he didn't have to wait until Monday to die. He manages to climb onto the little jutting bit of roof, and tests the window. It slides open, and Ralph shakes his head to himself as he throws it open, awkwardly climbs into the room. He trips on something, sending something else clattering to the floor. He winces, and the lamp flicks on. He smiles nervously. This was definitely a better plan in his head.

'Ralph? What the fuck are you doing in my room?' Ralph staggers to his feet, pressing his finger to his lips.

'I had to see you. Sorry.' Jack sits up, rubbing his eyes.

'Are you drunk?'

'I just came from a party. Of course I'm drunk,' Ralph rolls his eyes, sitting on the edge of the bed, 'Speaking of which... Maurice has decided that I'm done for, come Monday. So... I've decided that I want you for my last meal.' Jack blinks in surprise.

'What?' He manages, and Ralph pulls his covers back, his drunkenness giving him a surge of confidence that gives him the courage to climb on top of him.

'I've decided that I'm gonna ride you until I break your bed.' He takes the redhead's face in his hands, pulls him into a searing kiss, fingers digging against his jaw.

'Ralph,'

'Shh... Tonight, I'm yours. Alright?' He pulls his blazer open, then pulls his arms from it, letting it fall to the floor. Jack looks up to him, grasping his sides carefully. Ralph's hand goes to one of his, applying pressure.

'I want it hard, baby. Fuck me hard,' Ralph's face is hot, but he presses on as he leans down, tugging Jack's shirt up, 'I want to feel something other than fear. Just once.' He whispers, biting at Jack's ear.

'Works for me.' Jack sits up so quickly that Ralph scrambles to stay upright, blinking when the dark room spins around him.

'Okay.' He murmurs, and Jack takes off his shirt, sitting back to let Ralph look at him. Ralph's hands shake as he unbuttons his top, scanning his eyes over Jack's freckled torso. Jack sits forward, pushing the white fabric down his arms and sucking at the skin of his shoulder as Ralph grinds down against him, making the redhead moan.

Next, it's a frenzy of hands and limbs bumping together as they hurry to undress, barely taking time to look at each other. When they're both naked, Jack uses some lotion to guide himself into Ralph, biting at his collarbone. Ralph pulls at his hair, moaning loudly as he rolls his hips down against Jack's.  
Jack moves up into him, roughly, gripping at his hips tight enough to leave bruises that Ralph will trace over while in the shower. Ralph leans back to glance at Jack's face, kissing him firmly, biting at his bottom lip. Jack groans, then moans his name, pulling away.

'You're beautiful,' He whispers, taking Ralph's face in his hands, stroking his cheeks with his thumbs in a gesture that's so tender it's jarring when compared to the bruises and marks left on both of their bodies. Ralph blinks, can think of nothing to say in response. He grips Jack's wrists, holding his hands there as he whimpers, moving against him quicker. Jack kisses him, then pushes their foreheads together, following the speed with his hips, cursing under his breath.

'Fuck - Ralph, I'm gonna -' He groans then, spilling into Ralph, who soon follows, falling forward and leaning against Jack's shoulder as he spills onto his stomach, moaning loudly. Jack wraps his arms across his back, kissing the side of his head and falling back onto his pillow, pulling Ralph with him, breathing heavily.

'Fuck,' Ralph mutters, catching his breath. Jack laughs in agreement, looking down at Ralph in a way that he can't describe.

'How'd you find my address? Not that I'm complaining or anything... It's not like my dad's in the Yellow Pages or anything. We don't stay anywhere long enough for that.' Ralph frowns, then shrugs.

'Maybe it's fate.' He murmurs, then bites at Jack's collarbone, hard enough to make him wince and flinch away from him.

He reaches over, turns off the lamp on his bedside table, then pulls the covers over the both of them, 'Get some sleep, pretty boy. We'll worry about fate in the morning.'

 

 

Ralph doesn't remember his nightmare. All he is aware of is Jack, shaking him awake, saying his name over and over. He blinks in confusion, glancing out the window at the early morning sun. He's surprised he isn't hungover, but he supposes he's lucky.

'Jesus, Ralph, you're soaking wet.' Ralph curses, tumbles off of Jack and starts to get dressed. The sheets shift and Jack kisses his shoulder.

'What's the rush?'

'I need to go to Maurice's house.'

'What? Why? I thought you were done with that asshole.'

'Yeah, that was a nice dream. A world without Maurice. But now I'm awake, and I gotta go kiss his aerobacized ass.' Jack grips his forearm.

'No, you don't.'

'I have to! Shit, Jack, I'm not strong. I'm not like you.' Jack sighs, then starts to get dressed too.

'Fine. I'll come with you.' Ralph's fingers still on the last button of his shirt, and he smiles.

'Really?'

'Yeah.' He leans up, kisses Jack.

'Thank you,' Ralph pulls his blazer back on, then pauses, 'Oh. By the way. You were my first.' He doesn't stay to see Jack process this before he's ducking out into the hall.

 

* * *

 

 

The Chandlers keep a key to their back door under a flowerpot by the door. Ralph lifts the pot, and unlocks the door, letting himself in.

'Maurice'll be upstairs, nursing a hangover. Trust me, he always skips the Saturday morning trip to Grandma's.' He then calls out loudly, and there's a muffled answer from above. He points at the ceiling, smiling.

'So there is a God.' Jack grins, raising his brows, but Ralph just goes upstairs, knocking on Maurice's door.

'Maurice? I'm here to apologize.'

'Hope you brought knee pads, bitch!' The voice is muffled, but definitely Maurice, 'Fix me a prairie oyster and I'll think about it.'

When Ralph returns, Jack is rifling through the cabinets.

'What's in a prairie oyster?' Jack hands him a mug.

'Raw egg, vinegar, hot sauce, Worcestershire sauce, salt and pepper.' Jack lists off, crouching and looking in the cabinet under the sink.

'You sure know your hangover cures.' Ralph finds all the ingredients, and mixes them together, then laughs.

'My dad taught me well.'

'Here! My revenge. I'll cough up a phlegm globber into this and he'll never know.' He starts hocking, and Jack glances back, then reaches back into the cabinet.

'Put a lid on that shit. I'm a no-rust-build-up man, myself.' He holds up a blue bottle, then pours it into a glass.

'Don't be a dick. That'll kill him.'

'Thus, ending his hangover!' He holds out the glass of blue liquid, and Ralph frowns, setting down his mug.

'He'd never drink anything that looks like that.'

'Yeah. Guess you're right,' He turns to the cupboard that he got the mug out of, and grabs another, 'So put it in a mug. He won't know what he's drinking.'

'Fuck off.'

'What, are you chicken? Bawk, bawk, bawk!'

'You aren't funny.' He shoves his shoulder, setting the mug down and using the excuse of putting away the ingredients to put some distance between them. Jack sets the other mug down and waits for him, grabbing his hips to hold him still.

'I'm sorry. It was just a joke.' Jack leans down to kiss him, and Ralph grabs the first mug he touches, pulling back.

'Prairie oyster! Chop, chop!' Maurice's voice cuts their kiss short, and Jack glances down at the mug as Ralph heads up the stairs.

'Ah! Ralph -'

'Hm?'

'Never mind.' Ralph smiles at him strangely, running his index over the rim of the cup, then continues on his way without looking at its contents.

 

'Good morning Maurice,'

'Ralph,' Maurice smiles, sickly sweet, then looks to Jack, smile fading, 'And Jesse James. What a surprise. Alright. Get to it, honey. _Beg_.'

'Um. Okay. Well, I think we both said and did a lot of things that we didn't -'

'Actually, I think you need to do this on your knees. In front of your little friend here.'

'I'm _really_ sorry, Maurice.' Maurice laughs cruelly.

'Does it look like I'm kidding? _Down_.' Ralph looks to Jack, who looks away, anger burning in his eyes. He then gets to his knees, refusing to look at Maurice, who now stands over him.

'Aw. Sweet,' He leans down, grabbing Ralph's face to make him look at him, 'But you're still dead to me.' He smiles, and takes the mug, drinking it all. He then blinks once, coughs, and sets the mug down. Ralph stands, looking to him in confusion as he doubles over, choking, then collapses. Jack steps around them and glances at the cup.

'Shit!'

'Oh my god!' Ralph kneels beside his friend, feeling for a pulse, 'Don't just stand there, call 9-1-1!'

'I think it's a little late for that.'

'Oh my god... I can't... I just killed my best friend.'

'Or worst enemy.'

'Same difference!' Ralph hisses, scrambling away from the body in front of him, 'Oh... What are we gonna tell the cops? I'll definitely have to send my SAT scores to San Quentin now!' Jack looks at him in confusion, then starts thinking.

'Unless... Look. Murder is crime. And we just did a crime. But... What if this is wasn't a murder thing? What if this was a suicide thing?'

'A suicide thing?' Jack looks around the room, then picks up a magazine, pointing to the cover. The words TEENAGE SUICIDE are emblazoned across the front. Ralph looks to the body on the floor.

'You can do his handwriting, right? Just as well as your own? Right?'

'I... guess.' Next thing he knows, there's a notebook and red pen being pressed into his hand, and Jack is sitting next to him, breath warm on his neck. His thoughts wander to the night before, so he looks back to the body to focus again.

'Okay. Um.' Jack starts talking in his ear, soft and focused.

> _You might think this is shocking. But to me, suicide is the logical answer to the myriad of problems life has given me._

'He would never use myriad. He missed it on the vocab test.'

'Then it's a badge for his failures in school.'

'Oh. Okay. Yeah, you're probably right.' Ralph turns back to the paper, swallowing thickly.

> _People think that just because you're beautiful and popular, life is easy and fun. No one understood. I have feelings too.  
>  I die knowing that no one knew the real me._

'That's really good. Alright.' Ralph tears it from the notebook, folding it carefully and placing it in Maurice's hand before jogging down the stairs, Jack quickly following.

 

* * *

 

 

On Monday, news of Maurice's death spreads quickly. As these things do. Neither of the other two seem remotely sad.

'What a waste.' Simon laments, poking at his salad.

'Oh, the humanity.' Roger replies, practically inhaling some chicken. Ralph looks up from his food, allowing himself to smile.

'Watch out, Rog. You might be ingesting something. Where's your urge to purge.'

'Fuck it.'

 

In Ms. Fleming's class, Jack sits next to Ralph, taking his hand. Ralph smiles up at him, tired, and squeezes his hand as Fleming walks in, holding a piece of paper.

'Alright, class. I know that you all must be feeling down about Maurice. I have his note,' She pauses and looks around as the students murmurs. Jack places his hand on Ralph's arm, scooting closer.

'No one knows. We're fine.' Ralph swallows, staring straight ahead, gripping Jack's hand tighter as Ms. Fleming continues.

'I'm going to pass this note around, and we're all going to talk... And share our feelings about this terrible, terrible tragedy.' Students take turns talking about how sad it is, and how surprising this was. Jack scoffs, murmurs against Ralph's ear.

'God, he's more popular than he was when he was alive.' He murmurs, and Ralph can't help but laugh. When everybody looks at them, he covers it with a sob, and Ms. Fleming steps forward, placing the note on his desk.

'Ralph, you've been awfully quiet. Care to share?'

'Uh... Maybe Maurice realized that the only way he could be... Happy. Is if he... Died?' Ms. Fleming passes the note on to the next student, and Ralph leans against Jack, sighing.

 

Ralph goes to Jack's house after school to watch tv, flicking through the news channels. It seemed that Jack's earlier observation was correct. Every channel was talking about Maurice's death, interviewing students. Roger is on three of them, smiling brightly on each one as he recalls a different memory. Ralph scoffs, sitting up to yell at the screen.

'Jesus, Roger, how many channels did you run to?' Jack laughs, flicking off the tv and moving to kiss him when the door swings open, and he sits up quickly.

'Hey, son, I didn't hear you come in.' A middle aged man that Ralph recognizes from the commercials comes in with a beer in his hand.

'Yeah, pop. I wanted to introduce you to my new friend.' Ralph smiles at the man.

'This is Ralph. Ralph, Dad. Dad, Ralph,' He turns back to his father, 'How about you ask your friend to stay for supper, son?' Ralph stands quickly, the tension in the room obvious.

'Actually, my mom is making my favorite meal. I appreciate the offer, though.'

'Nice. Last time I saw my mom, she was waving at me through a library window in... Texas, wasn't it?'

'Right.' The man looks at Jack dangerously, and Ralph touches Jack's shoulder anxiously.

'I should be getting home. I'll see you tomorrow.' He mumbles, hurrying to the door.

 

* * *

 

The phone rings loudly, cutting through Ralph's train of thought of his English homework.

'Hello?'

'Ralph?' Simon's voice comes through, obviously scared, 'I need help. I'm at the cemetery.'

'What's wrong?'

'Just hurry. Please.' The line cuts, and Ralph pulls a blazer on and climbs out his window, noting that it was way past his curfew.

 

When he gets to the cemetery, Simon is sitting in Roger's car, the window rolled up. Eric is sprawled on the ground, a beer in his hand. Ralph steps over him and knocks on the window. Simon smiles and rolls down the window.

'Are you okay?'

'Now that you're here!'

'And Eric?' Simon peers out the window and grimaces.

'Oh, yeah. He's passed out. Me and Roger and the twins came out to pour some Thunderbird on Maurice's grave. But Sam and Eric drank it all,' Eric moans behind Ralph, 'Then Roger and Sam went off. And Eric wouldn't stop grabbing me unless I called you.'

'Called me? Even what happened at the party?'

'That was the deal. Eric would leave me alone if I got you to come.' Ralph blinks, and glances at the blond on the ground.

'So, what? You're avoiding date rape by volunteering me for date rape?' Simon looks up at him in innocent horror.

'God, Ralph, you make it sound _ugly_.'

'Whatever, Si, I'm leaving.' Suddenly, arms are wrapping around his leg, and he finds Eric's drunken face staring up at him.

'Ralph! You came! I waited ten whole beers for you...' He slumps into his pant leg again, drool soaking through the fabric, and Ralph scoffs in disgust, shaking him off and storming away as Roger comes around a tree, straightening his blazer.

'I said I'm done, Sam. Simon, lemme in.' Roger gets into the car, and the two lock the doors. Ralph climbs over the fence, and Eric stumbles after him.

'C'mon, baby. When I got that feelin', I need sexual healin'.' Ralph glances over his shoulder to see the blond raising his eyebrows suggestively.

'Yeah right, asshole.' He starts up the steep hill, ignoring the crack of a stick behind him, until a hand grabs him, spins him around, and he cries out in surprise, leaning away. Jack stands below him, confused.

'Why are you here?' He asks, voice quiet as he looks down at Eric, who's trying to climb the fence, 'Did they hurt you?'

'Simon said he was in trouble. Maurice was the only one who could keep those two in check. And he's dead,' Jack looks at him in the same dangerous way that his father had that afternoon, 'Sorry. I should've called before I came.' Ralph doesn't want to deal with the possible argument that would come with asking Jack why he was lurking in the trees by the cemetery.

'Another one of those fuckin' assholes,' Jack laughs ruefully, looking at his feet.

'Jack,'

'Sorry. I guess I'm feeling a little superior tonight. God. Seven schools in seven states, and the only thing different is my locker combination,' Jack pauses, looking up to Ralph. He smiles softly, 'And you. Our love is God.'

'C'mon. Let's get a slushie.' Ralph murmurs, extending his hand.

 

* * *

 

 

The next morning, Ralph storms up to Roger and Simon, who are sorting through Maurice's locker.

'Hey, guys! I'm looking forward to that apology you two owe me.'

'For what?' Simon asks, tucking some of Maurice's pictures into a notebook.

'For being two ice-cold bitches last night.' Roger gasps, pulling away from the locker, holding something in his hand.

'A little respect here, Ralph. We're cleaning out our dead best friend's locker.'

'Oh, shut _up_ Roger. You were never-'

'Don't tell me to shut up!' Roger's voice comes out shrill, then his shoulders relax, 'I don't have to shut up any more.' He holds out his hand in triumph. In his hand sits Maurice's favorite red Swatch.

'That's Maurice's Swatch.' Simon says as Roger puts it on, smiling up at Ralph smugly. Roger frowns, turns on the smaller boy.

'Shut up, Simon.'

'Sorry, Roger.' Ralph scoffs, and Roger glances over his shoulder, smiling cruelly.

'We put Maurice up to lead us, but he couldn't handle it. Now, someone who can has to replace him.'

'Replace Maurice?'

'You know what, Ralph? If I were you, I wouldn't stick my ugly nose into other's people's business so much, and focus more on my own reputation.'

'What are you talking about?' Roger examines his cuticles, grinning smugly at his nails.

'Sam and Eric aren't shying away from letting everyone know about your little three way last night.'

'What? You both know that nothing happened.'

'I remember differently, I guess. Listen to the gossip sometime, Ralph. You'll find out.' He slams Maurice's locker shut, and pushes past Ralph. Ralph turns to chew him out, but catches sight of Jack, who stands a little ways away, jaw clenched. Ralph walks over to him, grasping his bicep.

'Nothing happened, I promise.' 

'I know. I just... I can't fuckin'... They all deserve to-'

'Jack.'

'Shit, fuck. Sorry. Ugh- I hate this. Everyone is so fuckin,' Jack runs his hands through his already unruly curls, pacing down the hall. Ralph hurries to catch up.  
They pass by his locker, where a bunch of students are laughing and whispering among themselves. Ralph stops, and pushes through the small crowd, Jack close behind him. Someone has covered his locker in slurs and jabs, and he feels his cheeks go hot. Jack grabs his shoulder, fingers tight, as he tries to steer him through the crowd, expression dark. Eric steps in front of them and mimes giving someone a blowjob. Jack releases Ralph to strike him, but Sam grabs his arms, holds him back so Eric can land a punch to his stomach. Ralph manages to stop more from happening, dragging Jack away and into the bathroom, tears biting his eyes.

'Fuck, Jack. Are you okay?' Jack glances up at him, and wipes away the tears that Ralph hadn't realized had fallen.

'They made you cry,'

'It's okay.'

'No, it's not. I'm gonna - They'll pay for this.'

'Jack, you don't have to-'

'You're the only thing that is good in this world, Ralph! Everybody else are just... Assholes.'

'What about you?' Ralph whispers, touching his stomach. Jack winces, shifts away.

'You're the only thing.' Jack staggers to his feet to look in the mirror, pulling up his shirt. There's already a nasty bruise forming over his ribs. Jack's jaw ticks, and his hand goes to his coat pocket. Ralph can't bring himself to ask about the mysterious lump in it.

'Are you okay?' He asks again, voice echoing around the silent bathroom. Jack lets his shirt fall, leaning over the sink. His shoulders shake.

'Fuck. I haven't cried since...' Ralph climbs to his feet, wraps his arms around his middle carefully, and leans his cheek on Jack's back. Jack stares into the mirror, and smiles.

'Our love is God.' He says again.

 

Jack climbs through his window after curfew, much more graceful getting through the small space than Ralph was that past weekend. He sits down on the bed.

'Call the twins.' He says, pressing Ralph's phone into his hand. Ralph picks up the handset, and dials the number on the card that Sam had given to him at one point, and he had thoughtlessly shoved to the bottom of his bag. The phone rings twice, then Eric's voice comes through.

'Yeah?'

'Hi! Eric.'

'Oh! Hey,' There's a whisper that's muffled from the other end, and Ralph knows that Sam is listening in, 'It's Ralph.'

'I didn't really expect to be calling. I guess my... emotions took over.'

'Oh yeah?'

'Yeah. How did you know that it was always a fantasy of mine,' Ralph bites his lip and twirls the cord around his finger and lowers his voice to what he hopes is a sultry whisper, 'To have two guys at once?' Jack covers his mouth to stifle a laugh, and Ralph has to smack his knee, then press his finger to his lips.

'Uh... Lucky guess, I s'pose?'

'Well... Meet me in the woods behind school. At dawn. Oh!' He takes on the same whisper, 'Don't forget your brother.' He quickly hangs up, and presses his lips together, raising his brows. Jack grins, pulling him close and kissing him, hard.

'You write the note?' He whispers against his lips, and Ralph nods, pressing the paper into his hand.

'I don't get why we need a note when we'll just shoot them with blanks.' He whispers, letting his head fall to the side when Jack moves to kiss his neck.

'We aren't using blanks.' Ralph yanks back just as the taller boy's hand brushes over his crotch.

'You can't be serious. No. My Bonnie and Clyde days are _over_.' He climbs off the bed, crossing his arms.

'Listen, listen. Do you take German?'

'French.'

'Okay,' He pulls a handful of bullets from his pocket, 'These are called Ich Luge bullets. My granddad scored a shitload back in World War II. They contain some sort of powerful tranquilizers. They break the skin, but don't do any real damage.'

'So, what? The person looks like they've been shot dead, but they're really just unconscious and bleeding?' Jack nods.

'The Nazis used them to fake their suicides when the Russians invaded Berlin. We...'

'Will use them on Sam and Eric?' Ralph finishes, and Jack grins, pulling him down to kiss him again. He leans into in, sliding into Jack's lap. 'Read the note. But, first. Tell me that it isn't a perfect copy.' He reaches for the sample of Eric's handwriting. Jack pulls away to glance at the paper, then the note.

'Impressive similarity.' Ralph takes the note from him as Jack kisses at his neck again, and clears his throat.

'Alright. Listen.'

> _Sam and I died the day we realized we could never reveal our love to an uncaring and ununderstanding world. The joy we experienced from each others' arms was so much greater than the joy that any touchdown could give us. And yet, we were forced to live the lives of sexist, beer guzzling jock assholes._

He looks to Jack for approval, who has pulled back.

'It's perfect. You're perfect. C'mere.' They fall back, giggling like two children, onto Ralph's pillows.

 

 

When Jack and Ralph get to the woods, it's early enough that the sun has barely broken over the horizon. Jack hides behind a tree with a wide trunk as Ralph waits in a clearing for the brothers to arrive, tucking a gun into the waistband of his pants.

It doesn't take long for the sound of footsteps to come, announcing the two boys' arrival. Ralph turns, and smiles.

'Hey, Ralph!' Sam calls, grinning as he walks down the slope leading to the clearing, Eric trailing after him.

'Hey, boys. I was hoping you would come.' They stop a few feet from Ralph, shifting and looking unsure of themselves. Eric finally speaks.

'So, do we just like... Whip it out?' Sam elbows his brother, and Ralph smiles.

'Take it slow, Eric. Strip for me.'

'Oh. Okay!' They start to strip themselves, but Eric stops halfway through unbuttoning his jeans.

'What about you?'

'Oh, well, I was hoping that you could my clothes off me, babe.' The two grin, and hurry to finish the job, until they stand in front of her in their underwear, 'Alright. count of three? One... two...' On cue, Jack steps out, gun lifted.

'Three!' He fires, and hits Sam in the chest. Ralph fires at Eric, but misses, and the blond sprints away. Jack stops, frowning at him.

'Aim much?'

'Don't worry! Did you see the look on his face? It was totally worth it.' Jack's lip pulls back into an expression that could only be described as a snarl.

'Stay here. I'll get him.' As Jack runs after Eric, Ralph steps forward and nudges Sam's prone form with his toe.

'Sam? You're just unconscious. Right?' He kneels down, and feels for a pulse. Just then, Eric comes running back, Jack behind him. He skids to a stop, looking between the two. Jack pauses, and fires again, and Eric falls. Ralph scrambles to his feet, knuckles white around his gun.

'What the fuck have you done?' He shouts, and Jack steps forward, chest heaving.

'It was for _you_ , Ralph.' Ralph steps back and looks between the two brothers, angry tears in his eyes.

'Ich Luge bullets. Fuck! I'm so stupid!' Jack steps forward, his gun now in his pocket. Ralph pushes past him, and falls to his knees between the two bodies. Jack kneels behind him, and wraps his arms across him, holding him firm against his chest as he murmurs into his ear, the tone sounding suspiciously close to the way it did the night before, when he was covered in sweat, moaning above him.

'I worship you, Ralph. I'd do anything for you. I'll make everyone who wrongs you disappear. Everyone,' He grips Ralph's bicep way too tightly, and Ralph knows there'll be bruises left behind, and he continues his speech, 'Our love is God.' Tears fall down Ralph's cheeks as Jack's arms tighten around him and he repeats the mantra against his ear.

'Our love is God, Ralph. C'mon, baby. Say it.' Ralph lets out a broken whimper, staring at the ground.

'Our love is God.' He whispers, and he feels Jack grin, and kiss his tears away.


	2. ACT TWO.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a LOT shorter than the first chapter because i wanted to keep it as strictly ralph's pov, so i had to cut out the reprise of shine a light (which hurt my heart immensely) and kindergarten boyfriend (which. meh.) and that probably lost maybe 1k??? also i think there's less songs in act two to begin with so, and it might be shorter in the actual musical?

> _Dear Diary,_
> 
> _Jack and I have been going steady for a bit now. He's awesome. Mostly. A bit too rock and roll for my tastes, but we can't be perfect._  
>  _Also, he's kind of bumped of three of my classmates. But that's another issue for another day._
> 
> _My teenage angst bullshit now has a body count.  
>  _
> 
> _Fuck._
> 
> _Are we going to prom or hell?_

Ralph tucks his journal under his mattress and turns to the mirror, adjusting his suit jacket then noisily thumps down the stairs. He calls a farewell into the house and heads to Sam and Eric's funeral.

 

Jack is waiting for him when he gets there, which Ralph isn't too thrilled about. He slings an arm across his shoulders, gripping his bicep tightly.

'There's been a distinct lack of cute boys climbing through my bedroom window lately.' He murmurs, and Ralph glances to see that Jack's smiling down at him.

'Take the hint, asshole.' He hisses, ducking out from under his arm and wrenching away.

'You're mad, I get that.'

'Do you? You lied to me, Jack!' Jack sneers, glancing over his shoulder, and then pulls him into an alcove away from the black-clad funeral goers to talk freely.

'You were lying to yourself. You wanted them dead, too.'

'I did _not_!'

'Did too.'

'Did not!' Ralph moves to storm away, but Jack grabs him, pulls him back to the alcove.

'Look. Did they make you cry?' Ralph purses his lips and looks away from Jack's hopeful expression, 'Ralph, answer me.'

'Yes.'

'Do they make you cry anymore?' There's a sullen silence, and Ralph wraps his arms around himself.

'No,' He shoots Jack a glare, pulling away, 'But you can.' Jack doesn't follow him when he walks away, just calls after him.

'Just you wait. Good things will come out of this.' Ralph stops, scoffs, and storms into the church.

 

Jack is one of the last people to file in, stealing the last seat beside Ralph, draping an arm across his shoulders, pulling him close as the twins' father starts his eulogy. Ralph cringes at his touch, staring ahead determinedly.

'I... I don't know what to say. My boys have turned my family into a laughing stock. They weren't who I thought they were. When I think about what they were doing to each other...' The man shudders, and Jack stifles a laugh beside him, 'But they were my sons. and I love them,' He turns to the coffins, rests his hand on one of them, 'My sons were incestuous homosexuals, and I love them. I love my dead gay sons!' 

 

After the funeral ends, Jack holds Ralph there until everyone else has left, then turns to him, grinning wide.

'Holy shit. Did you just see that? Was that... Tolerance?' Ralph pulls away, sending one last glance to the podium, where they left the football helmets when they carried the bodies to the yard.

'You don't have to be so smug about it.' He stands, but Jack follows, wraps his arms around him and pulls him close, resting his chin on his head.

'Your love keeps me humble. So, who's next? Roger? He started that threeway rumor.' Ralph forces his way from Jack's tight hold, glaring up at him.

'No! I meant what I said when I said that my Bonnie and Clyde days were over. No more. Three is too many dead already, Jack! This ends. Right here, right now?' Jack shifts from foot to foot, laughing ruefully.

'Or what?' Ralph is quiet for a long time, then bites his lip.

'Or I'll break up with you.' The look that Jack gives him is heart shattering, and the taller boy steps forward, gripping his shoulder tightly, leaning forward like someone had knocked the air from him.

'Ralph...'

'I mean it!'

'All war has casualties, but that doesn't mean it isn't worth fighting!' He grabs Ralph's other shoulder now, shaking him, looking at him intensely, 'But you'd rather, what? Go to jail? And give a free pass to all those _dicks_ who get off on hurting people? Evil pricks who make the world so _unbearable_ that you can't stand to go on living?' Ralph blinks, looking away from the taller boy.

'Jack, how'd your mom die?' He whispers, and the grip goes slack. When he looks back up, Jack's face is blank.

'You really want to know?'

'I do.'

'My dad insists that it was an accident. But she knew what she was doing,' He walks away from Ralph, looking out one of the stained glass windows, 'She walked into that library two minutes before it was due to blow up. She waved at me out a window, and then...' He turned back to Ralph, making a small gesture of an explosion, face sad, 'Kaboom. She was gone.'

'Jack, I'm so sorry.' Ralph steps forward, and he forgets all that Jack has done in that moment, seeing nothing but a broken boy that he wanted to glue back together.

'It's fine. The pain gives me clarity. We're special, baby. We have a lot of work to do.' Ralph stops in his tracks.

'What do you mean? What work?'

'Making the world a decent place for decent people to live in.' Jack says like its obvious. Ralph scoffs, turning back away from him.

'And when will it end?'

'When every asshole is dead!' Ralph rounds on him, shoving him roughly. Jack hits the wall, hard, too shocked to retaliate.

'Enough! God, Jack! Just because we've been hurt, doesn't give us the right to decide who lives and who dies! We aren't God, Jack. We aren't wise. We're seventeen years old. Fuck.' He reaches for Jack's hand, looking up at him pleadingly. 'That's all I want. I just want to be a normal teenager. With you. If you... If you let me, we could be good together. So good.'

'Do I even have that anymore? The right?' Ralph swallows thickly, pulling Jack away from the wall, guiding him into a gentle hug.

'We're all born marked for evil.' Ralph whispers, and Jack manages a laugh as they sink to the ground, clinging to each other.

'I might be damaged, but if it means losing you... Fuck, Ralph. I'll always chose you. You know that. Stay, baby, please.' Ralph rests his cheek on his shoulder, and nods, staring at a spot on the floor. _This will all turn out fine._

_Right?_

 

* * *

 

 

On Monday, Charlie seeks out Ralph, who traces over the faded marker of the slurs, still across scrawled across his locker, even though he had come in on Saturday and scrubbed at it until his fingers were raw.

'Ralph? Could you help me with something?'

'Sure. Anything.'

'It's about the twins' deaths. Something doesn't add up.' Ralph's stomach sinks, but he doesn't let on.

'What do you mean?'

'I think they were murdered.' Ralph looks over Charlie's shoulder, then looks back to his friend.

'Why... why do you say that? They found a suicide note.'

'That doesn't mean anything! I mean, it could've been faked. Remember when you used to forge your dad's signatures?'

'Who'd want to kill Sam and Eric?' Ralph turns back to his locker, hoping the shorter boy wouldn't notice his shaking hands.

'I'm thinking maybe your friend. Jack Merridew? Remember how he pulled that gun on them in the hall? There's something off about him.' Ralph looks down, chest squeezing his heart.

'Charlie, that's ridiculous...' He manages, but Charlie keeps pressing.

'Is it really? Do you have the combination to his locker? I want to look in it.'

'This is... a pretty wild theory.' 

'Sam wasn't like that. He wasn't that... Messed up. I'd stake my life on it.' Ralph slumps forward, knowing what he had to do. If Jack caught wind of Charlie's theories, he knew that his only true friend would wind up dead with a suicide note folded into his hand.

'Why would you think anything else? Sam was into his brother. It isn't that complicated.'

'He kissed me, remember! On the kickball field!'

'In kindergarten, Charlie.' Ralph sighs. 

'My heart knows the truth. Why would he write that note if he didn't feel something?' Ralph scoffs, turns to him, frowning, 'I'm gonna go confront Jack.' Ralph's jaw drops, but then he gathers himself into his best impression of Maurice, and laughs cruelly.

'Really? You continue to floor me, Charlie.'

'What?'

'Sam didn't write that note. I did.'

'No.'

'Yeah. Maurice and the others put me up to it. The whole school was in on it, and _no one_ laughed harder than Sam. He didn't _love_ you. He was a dick. Now, he's dead. Get over it. Move on.' Charlie stares at him for a long time, hurt and confused. Then, he turns and walks away, tears in his eyes. Ralph sighs, slumping forward into his locker, cursing under his breath as he runs his hands down his face.

 

When he wanders into the lunchroom at lunch, he is confronted by Ms. Fleming.

'Ralph! There you are,' A folder is thrust into his hands, 'Get into your place before we go live.' Ralph scoffs and steps up beside Roger.

'Oh. right. This thing.' Simon steps up between them, almost quivering with barely-restrained joy.

'I'm actually looking forward to this.' Roger shoots the smaller boy a glare, fingering the Swatch strapped around his wrist.

'Did you have a _brain tumor_ for breakfast?' Simon visibly deflates and steps back into place.

'Sorry, Roger.' He mumbles, and Roger turns his attention to Ralph, smiling thinly. He opens his mouth to say something, but Ms. Fleming cuts in before he can.

'This school has been torn apart by tragedies time and time again. I'm here today to fuse it back together, through togetherness and acceptance,' She places her hands over her heart, glancing at the TV crew. Jack steps up behind Ralph and kisses his temple.

'Is this as good for you as it is for me?' He whispers, tugging on his sleeve, 'C'mon, let's ditch this thing.' Ralph glances over his shoulder, biting his lip.

'I can't. Ms. Phlegm'll notice.' Jack snorts and just tugs him close, watching it all unfold before them.

'Whether to kill oneself or not is the most important decision a teenager can make.' Ms. Fleming continues on her little speech, speaking into the large microphone in her hand, looking around the gathered students seriously. 'Today, we are all going to go around. And just... Talk. About our feelings. Our problems. What we've hidden away, deep inside of ourselves. Any volunteers to go first?' Someone coughs in the back of the cafeteria, and Ms. Fleming looks around expectantly, then lifts her hands in surrender. 'Fine. I'll start.' As she launches into her sob story, Jack leans in again, grinning against Ralph's ear.

'You really wanna stay for this shitshow? C'mon, let's go to my car. We can make out for a bit, smoke.' Ralph flashes back to the last time they had kissed in his car, and frowns.

'I'm good here, thanks.' Jack must know what he's thinking about, because his grip tightens, and he sets his jaw.

'Suit yourself.' He says darkly, staring ahead and straightening his spine. Ralph expects him to leave, but he just sets his hands on his shoulders, fingers digging into his skin. He refuses to flinch away, biting back a wince. Some stoner kid steps forward and speaks into the mic.

'Every day's a battlefield when pride's on the line.' She says, and a jock steps forward, clapping her shoulder so hard she stumbles.

'I attack your weaknesses, and pray you don't see mine.' It goes on like this for a good fifteen minutes, the different cliques mingling in a surprisingly effective attempt by their hippie guidance counselor. Ralph's attention is more on Jack than anything else however, sensing how he starts to relax. When Ralph steals a glance over his shoulder, he finds that the taller boy is actually smiling in appreciation. Jack notices, and leans down.

'This is why we do what we do, babe.' He whispers, and Ralph goes to snap back, but Simon steps forward, interrupting any objections Ralph had towards a suggestion that he and Jack was some kind of pair of vigilante lovers.

'I've thought about killing myself.' Simon announces, tense and scared. The smile on Jack's face freezes into some strange grimace, and Ralph turns towards his friend. No one speaks. No one coughs. The cafeteria is completely silent.

'Si...' Ralph whispers, stepping forward, but Roger is quicker, louder.

'What the _hell_ are you doing?' He's held back by Ms. Fleming, who turns to Simon.

'It's okay, Simon. You're safe here. Share. It's gonna be okay.' Simon takes a few more shaky steps forward, looking like he's seconds from being sick. Roger looks on in dismay.

'Get back in line!' He hisses. Simon looks around, swallows.

'The last guy I was sort-of-with killed himself because he had feelings for his brother. My best friend seemed to have it all together, but now he's gone, too. And now, everyday my stomach starts hurting worse and worse and when I'm on the bus every morning and every afternoon my heart keeps getting louder and beating harder, and I'm thinking, _Jesus, I'm on the frickin' bus again because all my rides to school are dead_.' He looks around, and Ralph wants to step forward, hug his friend, whisper how everything would be fine. But Jack tightens his grip further, leans down.

'Let him have this. One less asshole for us to worry about.' Distantly, Ralph feels the cold seep of horror at the taller boy's words, but he needed to worry about Simon more than his boyfriend's homicidal tendencies. Simon looks around, and continues on his confessional, hands balled in the dull yellow sweater he had worn that day in place of his usual bright yellow blazer.

'I feel like I'm in the middle of shark infested waters with a life raft that's the size of my shoe, and it keeps filling with water, and there's nothing that I can do about the drowning and the sharks circling me, even though I can see a ship right next to me with everyone I know on it. It's also capsizing, but not as quick. Not as quick.' He slumps forward, tears welling in his eyes. Ralph moves to shake Jack off, but Roger is yet again quicker, pushing past Ms. Fleming to grab Simon, yank him forward. Ralph can only think of the time that he was in the same position that Simon was in now. That time had ended with death, and Ralph can't shake the feeling that this time would too. Roger's voice is scarily similar to Maurice's when he hisses at Simon, furious.

'What's your damage, Simon? Are you saying that Westerberg isn't a nice place? Where's your fucking school spirit? You don't deserve to wear our school colors,' He shoves Simon, but Ms. Fleming steps between them, face desperate.

'Roger, please!'

'How about you hop in that little life raft of yours and catch a gnarly wave over to Remington!' The cafeteria burst into a series of whoops and shouts, and Simon buckles in on himself, lip quivering.

'Aw, look!' The same stoner girl from earlier cries out, pointing at the small boy, 'Simon's gonna cry.' Simon looks around, eyes bright, then pushes through the crowd, stumbling from the cafeteria. Ralph manages to tear away from Jack with the intention of running after his friend, but he's distracted when Ms. Fleming turns to the cameras.

'Turn off the cameras. _I said turn them off_!' Disbelief bubbles, hot and bitter up his throat like vomit, and he steps forward.

'Is that all you care about?' He cries, shaking in anger.

'I care about saving _lives_! Roger here ruining valuable teaching-' Ralph steps forward, clenching his fists.

'Valuable?! None of us want this spectacle to be broadcast to the entire state of Ohio! We're all sick, and tired of being treated like guinea pigs in some lab! I am tired of constantly being patronized like fucking bunny rabbits!' Ms. Fleming gasps, scandalized, and backs away.

'I _don't_ patronize bunny rabbits!' Ralph ignores her, and steps forward more.

'Simon trusted you! You said you'd protect him! You're fucking useless. You're all fucking useless idiots!' He gestures around him, and Jack steps forward, grabs his arm.

'You should go sit down.' Ralph shakes him off, blinking away hot tears of fury.

'No! Maurice was a monster, just like Sam and Eric, just like everyone else here! They didn't kill themselves, you idiots, I killed them!' His fury cuts off suddenly and he slaps his hands over his mouth in horror, then drops them slowly, wetting his dry lips as he looks around, 'What... What do you all think of that?' He can feel Jack's gaze, boring into the back of his neck. The cafeteria is dead silent as everyone processes this. Someone takes a step forward, maybe Jack, then Roger bursts out laughing, doubling over as his laughter bounces off the walls. The rest of the students follow suit, and everyone around him is laughing. Ralph's jaw drops, and Roger sighs in mirth, wiping a tear from his eye as he stalks forward.

'Some people will say anything if they think it'll make them popular.' He mocks, jabbing him in the chest. Ralph stands stock-still for a moment, then pushes through the crowd in the direction that he saw Simon run off in.

 

He hears soft crying coming from a bathroom, and when he runs in, Simon is on the floor, working on a pill bottle with his teeth. Just as he comes in, he gets the cap off, and dumps the entire contents of the yellow bottle into his mouth. Ralph cries in horror and runs to kneel in front of him.

'Fuck! Simon, shit, spit it out!' The dark-haired boy looks up at him with wide eyes and mumbles something around his mouthful. Ralph can just make out the names of their dead friends, and gives him a sad smile.

'If everyone jumped off a bridge would you jump off, too?'

'Pr'b'bly.' Ralph holds out his hand.

'If you were happy every day of your life, you wouldn't be human. You'd be a fucking game show host.' Simon smiles, then spits out the mouthful into his hand, shifting to crouch on his feet.

'Thanks for coming after me.'

'Oh,' Ralph is still staring at the handful of wet pills. He hadn't expected Simon to actually spit them into _his_ hand, 'Uh, it's no problem.' Simon throws his arms around his neck, and hugs him tightly. 

After he flushes the pills down the toilet and washes his hands, he turns to his friend.

'Wanna knock off early and go get some chili fries?'

 

When they walk out of the bathroom, arm in arm, slow clapping fills the empty halls. Ralph turns to see Jack, leaning on the lockers behind them. He bites his lip, then turns to Simon, fishing his keys from his pocket.

'Can you wait in the car?' He whispers, and the boy glances between the two, then nods, setting off down the hall. When the door drifts shut behind him, Ralph turns to Jack, who walks up and pulls him close, arms around his waist.

'I had to admit, you had me worried there. That little meltdown in the caf? You're a fucking genius, baby! Best place to hide,' He makes a gesture of flying low, 'right in plain sight. Good thinking with your little confession.'

'I wasn't trying to hide.' Ralph says quietly, but Jack keeps on going like he didn't hear him.

'But why didn't you let _him_ off himself? One less person to worry about.' Ralph pulls away, eyebrows knitting together.

'Simon is my _friend_.'

'Then why are we letting Duke live? He's the asshole that made Simon want to kill himself! And I don't think I need to remind you about his past crimes. They're still written across your goddamn locker.'

'I thought I made it clear that we were done with that bullshit.'

'But why? Nothing has changed!'

'I'm done with this change business, Jack! Fuck!'

'So what? We're just gonna let Duke run around like some megabitch,' Ralph tries to cut him off, but Jack gets louder, angrier, and he sighs.

'Listen! Listen, listen. Just. Calm down, alright?' Jack doesn't meet his eyes, so Ralph presses his hands to his chest, 'You promised me.' Jack bites his lip and presses his hand over the one that's pressed to his heart.

'Yeah.'

'Thank you.' He whispers, and Jack manages a smile. Ralph leans up, and kisses him gently. 'Simon's waiting for me. I'll see you later, okay?' Jack nods, and Ralph can feel his eyes on the back of his head as he walks down the hall.

 

Later that night, Ralph straddles Jack on his living room sofa, kissing him, slow and long, when Jack's father comes in.

'Woah! Gee Pop, ever heard of knocking?' Ralph looks up and climbs off Jack's lap guiltily, 'I was playin' grab-ass with my boyfriend.' Jack sighs, and turns to his father.

'You know the rules. No closed doors when company's over.' The man laughs, and steps forward, tape in his hand as they drop this Father-Son-Switched act.

'The judge told those groupies barring the demolition to suck shit and die! Son, you should've seen the fireworks. I got it all right here,' He taps the tape, and leans in, 'I packed the upper floors with thermals, then set off the whole thing up with a Norwegian in the boiler room. Kaboom!' Ralph is reminded of that afternoon in the church, but there's nothing sad about this man's face when he does that same gesture. Jack looks like he's stewing over an idea as the man pushes the tape into the VCR, walking out.

'I'm gonna want my drawstring pants for this. Be right back.' Ralph blinks as the man disappears again. Then, Jack is standing, and digging through his pocket. He pulls out a gun, and fires at the VCR player. His father's voice booms down the hall.

'Goddamn! How many times do I have to say it - no firearms in the house!' Ralph stands, mouth agape.

'Are you carrying a gun?' He cries, and Jack turns to him like it was obvious.

'Yeah. Whatever, Ralph, it pissed off my dad! You gotta admit, it was funny!'

'It wasn't _funny_! None of this is funny, Jack! You're carrying a loaded weapon!' He pauses, and looks to the gun, 'You promised me.'

'It's a dangerous world out there, baby.'

'Yeah. It's people like you who make it dangerous,' He backs away, then sighs. 'Don't call me. We're done.'

'Ralph-'

'No! You don't understand what's right and what isn't!'

'Come _on_!' Ralph starts storming out, but Jack follows him out, 'Ralph, come back!' Ralph spins around to tell him off, but the gun is raised. He lets out a small noise and takes a step back, hands raised. Jack blinks, then horror spreads across his face as he looks down at the gun. He shoves it into his pocket, and holds his hand out instead.

'Have a nice life.' Ralph grits out, and slams the door behind him.

 

* * *

 

 

It's only the next day, but it feels like a lifetime had gone by when Roger is knocking at his door, grinning.

'Croquet?' He asks when Ralph opens the door.

'A two person match?' Ralph asks, and Roger smiles.

'I've got some important news to import. I know you weren't in school today - what gives, by the way? - so I wanted you to be on top of the news.'

'What, have I supposedly had a three way with two other football players?' Roger pushes past him, rolling his eyes.

'No. It's not about you. But I know that you were... Friends. With Piggy.'

'Yeah. In kindergarten.' Ralph says defensively.

'And that's why I wanted you to hear it from me. A friend, not some asshole in the school halls.' Ralph snorts.

'Hear what?'

'Well, Piggy decided to practice his swimming skills last night. He took a swan dive off the old Mill Bridge last night holding a suicide.' Horror spreads cold in his chest, and Ralph can't help but think that this would be another addition to his seemingly ever-growing list of people who're dead because of him.

'Oh my god,'

'Don't worry. He isn't dead - just a few broken bones. All he is is another geek who tries to copy the cool kids - and fails _miserably_.' Ralph leans against the wall, staring at a scuff on his floor.

'Um, Roger?' Roger looks up from the liquor cabinet, a bottle in his arms, 'My parents are gonna be home soon, actually, so maybe we could do this another time?' Roger scoffs, then replaces the bottle.

'Whatever.' Ralph watches him get into his car and drive off. As soon as he turns the corner, Ralph is running for his own car, and driving to the hospital.

 

Charlie looks horrible. 'A few broken bones' apparently entailed both an arm and a leg broken, and several other things that Charlie's aunt doesn't tell him. Ralph stands over his bed, and squeezes his good hand.

'Oh Charlie,' He whispers. He was glad that he wasn't awake for this. He didn't want to go through that awkward conversation of _Hey, sorry you attempted to kill yourself because of me. Turns out my ex-boyfriend is a murdering psychopath and you were right. You free for Friday Movie Night this week?_ 'I'm so sorry.'

 

Ralph's father and step-mother are sitting on the sofa when he gets home, just like they do when one of the three of them really fuck up, and they need to have a family discussion.

'Where have you been?' His father asks when they look up. Ralph glances at the clock on the fireplace mantel. He hadn't even been gone half and hour.

'We've been worried sick!' His step-mother steps forward, tears in her eyes 'Your friend, Jack Merridew? He stopped by when we got back from yoga! He's told us everything.' Ralph looks around. He didn't see any police. What was this? Another promise? Jack's form of an apology?

'Everything?'

'Your depression. Your thoughts of suicide? Goddamn, Ralph, he even took us up to your room. Where the fuck did you get so many pills?'

'Pills?' This wasn't an apology. This was a threat.

'Please, sweet pea, talk to us.'

'Sorry, but you wouldn't understand.' Ralph mulls over what this might mean, staring at the carpet at his parents' feet.

'C'mon, sport. We've been through high school, we get it.' Ralph laughs bitterly.

'Adults don't get anything.'

'The problems you're having - who to date, who to eat with - it all seems like life and death. Trust me, sweet pea, it's not.' His step-mother strokes his hair in a gesture that's meant to be comforting.

'You have no idea what my world looks like!' Ralph cries defensively, pulling away.

'What has gotten into you!' His father scolds, and Ralph sighs.

'Look - I just have a headache, okay? I'm gonna go upstairs to lie down.' Ralph doesn't give them time to object. He stomps up the stairs, prepared to ransack his room of any more threats.

 

His window is unlocked. He never kept it unlocked. Ralph sighs, trying to latch it, but the lock just slid loosely in its socket. He laughs bitterly, sitting down on the bed.

'Subtle.' He mutters, lying back. There comes a soft knock at the door, and he sighs.

'Just call me down when dinner's ready, okay! I'm tired!' He calls, and then someone laughs. He sits up. He knew that laugh. 'Fuck off, Jack.'

'C'mon, baby. Let me in.'

'Get out of my house!' Ralph suddenly felt quite unsafe with the direct way from the hall into his room, via window. He bars himself into his closet, hoping to God that dinner would be ready soon. Sure enough, a few minutes later, there's the distinct sound of his window being slid open, then someone climbing in. Another patient lock, and he presses himself into the back of the spacious closet. He was suddenly so glad that he had chosen the room with the walk-in.

'Look, baby, I'm sorry for climbing in through the window. I know how specific you are about etiquette and all that shit. Just... Come on out, alright? I've got something to show you.' Ralph feels his morbid curiosity peak, and he holds himself back from replying. The door shifts like Jack has leaned against it, and there's the crinkling of paper, and Ralph swallows. It was probably his suicide note, and Jack was here to slit his wrists or something.

'You weren't in school, so I bet you didn't catch wind of this. But I've got the next big plan. Forget those idiot jocks. Everyone who has ever wronged you, Ralph? That whole shit show of a school? After tomorrow, they won't be around anymore. You don't have to worry about what people'll think, and we can be together. A normal couple, like you wanted. Check this out.' A bundle of paper is stuffed under the door. 'All 538 students, signed. This is foolproof! Hope you don't mind me forging yours.' The third one down, under Jack's and Roger's signatures, was his. The copy was pretty damn good, he had to hand it to him. 'And listen to this. I know I'm not nearly as good as you are at this, but you can help me with anything that needs fixing.' Ralph swallows thickly as the door shifts some more, and Jack clears his throat.

'We, the students of Westerberg High, will die. Today, our deaths will be the ultimate protest to a society that degrades. The ashes of our burning bodies will be the final 'Fuck you' to a world full of pillowcases. Goodbye. Signed, the students of Westerberg High,' He pauses, then laughs, 'P.S. See all of you in hell.'

'See, baby? Isn't it amazing?' He pauses, knocks again. Ralph could tell he was getting impatient, and panic rises. He rushes forward, holding the knob shut with one hand as he reaches for the chair he kept in there, jamming it under. He looks around for something to defend himself with when Jack knocks again, then tries the knob.

'Ralph. C'mon, I don't wanna get angry. Just... Open the door? I don't wanna fight anymore.' Ralph's eyes land on a top shelf as Jack tugs at the handle. 'Please! I'll.. I'll give you to the count of three, okay?' Ralph stops just as he climbs on top of his dresser, flashing back to the morning in the woods. He pushes the thought away as Jack starts counting.

'1... 2...' He stops, then sighs. 'Fuck it.' Ralph jumps down just as the chair comes crashing into the doorway, and Jack stops in the doorway. 'Oh.' He sounded small, broken down. Ralph stares at his feet, swaying in midair. Although he had made sure to keep the sheet loose around his neck, it was still uncomfortable. 'Oh my god... Fuck.' Jack pushes the chair away, then his hand goes to Ralph's thigh. Ralph keeps his hands limp by his sides. 'Please - Ralph, oh...' Jack slides down and presses his face to his leg, 'I can't... I can't do this without you. I - fuck, Ralph, I trusted you! I loved you! Damn it!' He stands up, stumbles away, and punches the wall of his closet so hard that he cries out and Ralph hears something crack. He does it again, then again, until his step-mother calls his name.

'Ralph! Dinner!' Jack stops, and Ralph resists looking up. He had thought Jack would clear out by now. The taller boy is back by his side, and Ralph can see that his knuckles are bloodied and already bruising. He kneels in front of him, and Ralph tries to keep a blank stare. It seems to work, because Jack makes a choked noise and looks down.

'I hate... I hate leaving you like this. But... Your parents -'

'Ralph!' Jack looks over his shoulder, then looks back at Ralph.

'Fuck. I need to... I'll do it. For you. I know that it's what you would've wanted. Even though you were so stubborn - shit. God.' He swipes his cheeks, and squeezes one of Ralph's hands. 'I know you'd be mad at me, but it's for you. It was always... I... _Fuck_. I gotta go, baby.' Then he's gone, and Ralph doesn't have enough time to let himself down before his bedroom door opens, and his step-mother is screaming. Ralph scrambles down awkwardly, landing on the floor of his closet in front of his step-mother.

'God, no! No, I'm sorry! It was just a joke, I'm sorry!' His step-mother stops screaming, placing a hand on her chest.

'Don't do that! God, Ralph!'

'I'm sorry. I just... I wanted to get back at you. Sorry.' His step-mother looks over to the wall.

'Look at what you did to the wall, Ralph!' Ralph looks up. There's a smear of blood and a small dent in the wall. He swallows.

'Must've fallen.'

'Okay... Well, I know that you've been down these past few days,' Her eyes go to the makeshift noose, 'So I made your favorite meal. Your father doesn't need to know about all... This.'

'Thanks.' Ralph murmurs, smiling tiredly.

 

* * *

 

 

The next day at school, Ralph keeps a watchful eye for Jack. He had ditched the first half of the day, but he had come the second half to stop whatever Jack had planned.

He walks through the halls, glancing over his shoulder at every other step. He had a croquet mallet tucked under his clothes, and he touches it constantly, makes sure no one can see the outline. What he wouldn't give for Jack's trench coat right now.

'Ralph?' Ralph stops in his track, spins to see Ms. Fleming, looking confused, 'What're you doing here? Jack told me that you committed suicide.'

'Jack's wrong. About a lot things.'

'But whether to kill himself or not is one of the most important decisions a teenager can make.' Ralph blinks, then looks around.

'Um, Ms. Fleming, can I ask you something?'

'Anything.'

'What's under the gym?'

 

Ralph opens the door to the stairs leading to the boiler room, and lets it close before pulling the mallet from under his clothes. He grips it tight, and walks down the stairs carefully.

Jack's back is to him when he finds him, connecting a bomb to the largest boiler. He swallows thickly, and raises the mallet.

'May I see your hall pass?' Jack spins, and blinks, looking at him like he was the world's greatest mystery, a sort of half-smile on his face.

'Damn it, Ralph. And here I thought your were done faking suicides.' Jack stands, wiping his hands on his jeans.

'Sometimes it's essential.' Jack smiles wider, walking over. He wraps his arms around Ralph's middle, seeming not to notice the mallet in Ralph's hands. Jack leans in to kiss him, but Ralph puts his hand up. 'How do you turn off the bomb?' He asks quietly, and Jack laughs.

'That thing? It's not a bomb.'

'Then what the hell is it?'

'Remember what dear old Dad said? The day that we had our first big fight? I thought it was poetic.' Ralph sighs.

'Fine. Could you, y'know, shut it off?'

'Why? Didn't you hear what I said? As soon as this shit pile blows, we can put all of this behind us. Don't you want to do actual couple things?'

'Of course I do. But we just... Forget about them? We'll take this... and throw it in the creek or something. Please, Jack.' He glances over Jack's shoulder, biting his lip. He only had a few minutes to talk Jack out of this.

'I can't! How will anything get any better if we don't do something about it? Everyone's gonna look at the ashes of this place, and they'll know - it didn't self-destruct because of society! It self-destructed because it _was_ society. The only place the different social classes will ever get along is in heaven.' Jack pulls away, checks the Norwegian. Ralph swallows, shifts his hold on the mallet.

'I really wish your mom was stronger.' Jack freezes, but his hands start to shake.

'What?'

'I wish she stayed. For you. I wish that your dad was good, and that we met before everyone convinced that life is... That life is a war you have to fight when you're still a kid. I wish that you'd come-'

'I wish I had more TNT!' Jack shouts, pulling his gun. Ralph clenches his jaw, and they stand still. Then, he whacks the gun, and Jack cries out, holding his hand to his chest. 'Jesus, Ralph! I wasn't gonna actually shoot!' Ralph takes that small window and runs for the gun, which had skidded across the floor. Jack swears under his breath, yanks him close just as his hand closes around the gun, and tries to take it from him. Ralph stomps on his foot, and puts some distance between them, holding the gun up.

'Turn it off! Turn it off, or I'll shoot you. I swear to God, Jack, I'll shoot.' Jack shifts back, then smiles, points.

'The safety.' Ralph falters, and that's all Jack needs to grab his wrist, twisting his arm down. Ralph cries out as Jack pulls him close, whispers against his ear. 'Sorry about that. I lied. The safety's off.' Ralph tugs at him, then shoves at his shoulder. Their hands twist together over the gun, a jumble of fingers over the trigger. It's no wonder it fires, and Ralph screams in reflex. Jack slumps against him, breathing quick in his ear, and Ralph scrambles away when his fingers hit warm wet over his stomach. Jack falls, and the gun clatters to his floor. Ralph looks at Jack, shivering and bleeding on the floor, then steps over him to squint at the bomb. Jack whimpers, looks up at him.

'You think you can end this just because you started it?' Ralph swallows thickly, hands shaking.

'What button do I push?'

'Fuck off.'

'Jack! What button do I push? God!' Jack doesn't respond, and when Ralph looks back to him, he isn't moving. Ralph looks back to the bomb, and swallows. He carefully pulls the bomb from the boiler and hugs it to his chest as he stumbles up the stairs, shaking so badly he could hardly see straight.

 

 

Ralph staggers out the doors, and down the front steps, eyes set on the football field, when the doors open behind him.

'Wait,' Jack calls behind him, and Ralph stops, steadies himself on the railing. 'You won. Give it to me.' Jack pulls it from his hands, and Ralph can barely fight him off. Jack pauses, resets the time back a minute, then cups his cheek.

'Jack...'

'I'm too damaged to ever be a functioning person, Ralph. Let me have this.' Jack has tears in his eyes, and Ralph looks away. 'You're good enough. You can make things better here. Anywhere. Go have your normal life, Ralph Gornick.'

'Not this way, Jack. Please. We can go throw it somewhere.'

'Clean up this mess for me?' He kisses him briefly, then walks down the steps and out into the football field. Ralph walks up to the landing and sits down, holding back tears. The world would be better if Jack wasn't in it anymore, and they both knew this. Jack looks back to him, gives him a sad smile. 'Our love is God.' He calls, and Ralph gives him a tearful smile, figuring it would be a good thing for Jack's final view of the world. Jack smiles back, and then the world shakes, and Ralph's ears are ringing. He shields his face from the showering dirt and burning twigs. When the dust settles, there's a small crater where Jack stood. The students come pouring out, muttering and complaining amongst themselves. Simon steps up, helping him to his feet.

'Where have you been? People keep saying that you killed yourself.' Roger steps up, looks at the ruined field, then at him.

'You look like hell.'

'I just got back.' He grabs his wrist, pulls the Swatch from his wrist, then kisses his cheek.

'What the hell?'

'Roger, there's a new sheriff in town.' He spots Charlie, in a wheelchair, and grins, stepping down towards him as he straps the Swatch on his wrist.

'Hey.' Charlie says quietly.

'You free tonight? I had a date tonight, but he kinda... Blew it off. We could rent something with a happy ending?' Charlie smiles softly.

'I'd like that.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hate writing fight scenes im not good at it
> 
> but!!! wow my heathers au. hope u enjoyed


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